Disturbed
by FlamingDranzer
Summary: Squall Leonhart, vampire. Cold hearted and apathetic to the world around him. Clever and courageous, in every sense a man with a lion's heart. He lost everything, struggled to rebuild his home. Even the undead can't produce miracles. SquallxYuffe


**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or any of its characters, although I do own my plot. The title of this fanfiction and all chapter titles are inspired by songs by the band Disturbed. I do not own Disturbed or any of their songs.  
Warnings: Implied sex, violence  
Author's Note: I promised a new LeonxYuffie fic, and this has been in my mind for a while. I've always wanted to write a vampire fic featuring Leon but never got to it. Anyway, here it is, and I hope you all enjoy. Reviews and flames are welcomed, as well as constructive criticism.**

**Disturbed**

**Chapter 1: Deceiver**

_Squall Leonhart, vampire. Cold-hearted and apathetic to the world around him. Clever and courageous, in every sense a man with a lion's heart..._

The howling wind sent shivers down his spine. The night was cold; clouds prevented the full moon from shining. The gray mass in the sky threatened to throw water upon him, every so often allowing a drop here and there to escape. And, every time, he ignored the taunting. It was so typical of him to do. Ignore the weak, attack the strong: this is his motto. It is hard for one to believe that it was conceived by a mere teenager, only sixteen years of age...

But, regardless of his talents, even he could not escape the awkwardness of this stage of his life. However, he was lucky enough to escape the typical stressors. It was to be expected, for his life was never normal. Having lost his parents at a young age gave him his first emotional scar. His home and planet were completely obliterated, supposed to be gone forever. He was teased and attacked by black monsters called Heartless. They were only superior to him because of their strange abilities: they could melt into the shadows and disappear from sight until they strike from behind and slay their victim.

Not all of his struggles were physical, of course. He had the mental demons of a man twice his age, but then again, he had already experienced the pain of losing everything. But these creatures were hardly seen by any man. When he was thirteen, he had his first craving for blood. The kind did not matter, as long as he could drink it. He obsessed about the hot, salty liquid for months, even after consuming it. But, the more he drank, the more he craved, the more sensitive he got to rich tastes. Light was the bane of his existence; loud sound constantly gave him migraines.

Of course, two things prevented him from talking about these problems. The first was his ego, for he was _Squall Leonhart_ and was not supposed to rely on others. He was to be independent, cruel. Second, vampires were not real. At least, that he was his logic. They were works of fiction, he reasoned, not nonfiction. Regardless, he could not escape the truth...

Just then, a teenager about his age tried to stir him from his musings. Obviously, she was new to the world of Traverse Town. She had either not heard the legend of Squall, or she was a fool. He decided that she was the latter and tried to ignore her. Unfortunately, she was that type of person that enjoyed attention at every possible moment. She poked his shoulder, shifting her small amount of weight to her other leg. "Hey," she said, "You seem nice. Want to go to my place?"

_Nice?_ Squall thought. _Not the brightest crayon in the box, I see._

"Not interested," he told her, glaring with a fierce look in his blue eyes. However, he could not help but notice that oh-so-familiar scent of blood. He could even _see_ the pulse in her neck. How tempting it was.

"Aw...why not?" she asked, pouting in an attempt to look cute. "We'll have lots of fun."

Squall faked a yawn for his sake and hers. He covered his mouth with a gloved hand, momentarily ceasing to glare at her in order to close his eyes. He tried to convince her, "Sorry, but I'm tired."

"We can have lots of sleep at my place," she winked, adjusting her back so that her chest would stick out more. It was obvious that she knew how to get what she wanted. "I'm sure a big, strong man like you would -"

"I told you, I'm _not interested_," Squall insisted, stressing the last two words. _She is just about as bright as the color black._

"Maybe your mind's not, but I can see something else is," she giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

"Alright. You got me," Squall shrugged, giving in. "Let's go."

"Yay!" the teenager cheered, grabbed his arm and leading him eagerly towards her house.

_No...it's wrong, _Squall reasoned with himself. _If only I had more control..._

_But your body is only trying to do what's best for you, _answered a voice from within his mind. _Think about it...have sex with her and get all the blood you can drink._

The thought made him tremble in anticipation. Yes, he should have more control over himself...

* * *

It was not long until Squall found himself in her room, laying on top of her. A fierce battle took place in their mouths, and Squall ground his hips into the other teenager. He would not let it go far, would he? Surely, he would have enough control to go only as far as needed. At least, that is what he hoped. His mind was not into the foreplay as much as his body. Rather, it was focused on one thing and one thing only...

_Blood_.

He shivered when he suddenly was aware of his nudity, and the closeness of his _something_ to her _cat_.

"Come on, baby. I can't wait anymore!" she begged, her wrists held above her head by Squall's strong hand.

Squall was unable to fulfill the teenager's wants...In fact, he did not even try. Instead, he fulfilled his own. The hand that bound her wrists was moved to cover her mouth as his latched onto her neck, right over the precious artery that held within it a life-giving liquid. He could hear her scream and protest to the action as his fangs pierced the wall of the vessel.

His hand could have been glued to her mouth; he could not have it any closer, even if he wanted to. Crimson blood flooded his mouth, and he swallowed, savoring the salty taste. Just like all other things, this glorious moment in Squall's life came to end. Satisfied, he collapsed next to her, hand still on her mouth. He failed to notice that her eyes were lifeless.

After a period of rest, logic returned to his mind. He nudged the teenager's arm and whispered, "Hey, get up."  
He was confused when she did not move, almost like a child experiencing its first death. "This isn't funny," he told her, pushing himself up and off the bed in order to look at her. After doing so, he wished he could erase the sight from his mind. She was entirely pale, paler than even a ghost. Oddly enough, there were no signs of struggle, no teeth marks on her neck.

"No..." Squall shuddered, his stormy-gray eyes wide in fear. "She's...dead."

Panicking, he looked out a pane of glass only to discover the street lamps were not turned on. But, his sight told him that the dumpster was open and had enough trash to bury the body. He opened the window and threw the corpse out of it. He followed soon after, landing beside it. It was completely covered by the time the light in the lamps returned.

And the murderer was nowhere to be found.

* * *

As if afraid, Squall fled from the scene of the crime with guilt buried deep within the depths of his eyes. But, his body showed his suffering as clearly as the stars against the black sky. He walked away in a constant, equal rhythm, head bowed low to hide his eyes from the world. Not once since that accident could he find it within himself to meet the gaze of anyone he talked to. His first murder, no matter how accidental, had been the first scar on his vampire heart. Truth be told, it was driving him _insane_.

When he entered the modest hotel room, where the refugees of Radiant Garden had claimed their home, Aerith studied him with curiosity unhidden in her emerald eyes. Silent, Squall sat on the couch and sighed. Her intuition made her aware of something being amiss, but unable to determine exactly what, she asked him, "Are you alright, Squall?"

"..." Squall remained silent, giving her his own trademarked cold shoulder.

"Remember, I'll be here to talk about it," Aerith reminded him, knowing better than to pry into the lion's heart when he was obviously depressed.

"Aww...come on, Squallie! You never tell us anything!" a twelve year old Yuffie pouted, folding her arms over her chest. "We're like family, you know."

Squall remained silent for a moment longer, before sighing once more and walking to the room which he shared with Cloud. He slammed the door shut, and Aerith's keen sense of hearing told her that the door was locked.

_It's...disgusting,_ Squall thought, lacking the language skills to pick a more descriptive word. _How can I think about that? While I was in the room, I couldn't focus on anything else but their blood...and I thought the same about Yuffie. But she's just a kid! Get over it, Squall...your urges are disgusting._

He began to pace around the room wildly, eyes darting around here and there, fingers checking the locks to make sure he would remain undisturbed. He swallowed much more often than usual, his mind clouded with thoughts of blood, the squirming bodies of his friends beneath him, fangs buried in their neck, pale as a ghost, blood everywhere.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

He trembled, his urges intensifying, almost uncontrollable. He could not hold them back much longer, no. He was afraid of being a slave to them, but what choice did he have? This Hunger of his dictates his life, and without it, he would be dead. There is something within the red liquid that keeps him alive. What, he does not know, and does not care. His hand was on the doorknob, about ready to twist it so that he could claim his next victim, when something from within him changed.

He felt as light as a feather, as though he could soar into the sky whenever he pleased. There were no more weights holding him down, no fears or desires, other than the most instinctive: death and blood. What had happened, and more importantly, _why_, did not matter to him. For the first time since the teenager's death, he felt calm with himself for a reason he could not fathom.

* * *

For Squall, the days seemed to pass eerily slow, even more so than normal. And each moment was spent in intense anxiety, for he expected the police to be right outside his door, handcuffs readied along with a bag of evidence that proved his guilt. Uncharacteristically jumpy, he tensed whenever he heard an unexpected noise, or creak of the old, wooden floorboards. Of course, his friends took almost immediate notice of this strange behavior, but trying to get to the source was like attempting to travel to other worlds in a boat on the ocean.

But, he knew the time would come when he would have to be brave and confess his crime. However, he would put the latter on hold for a while. It took every ounce of his courage to step outside the safety of the hotel room's thin walls. A journey of a thousand steps begins with one, and so continued the travels of Squall, all the way to a spot all his own, a secret hiding place that was undiscovered by everyone else. It was a sanctuary.

Ironically enough (or perhaps not), the day Squall had left the lion's den was the day that a strange teenager came to see him. She was aware of his home, of his room in the hotel. She knew his face, his hair, his scar. She knocked on the wooden door politely, expecting a friend of his to answer. She _needed_ to act polite to them, to impress them.

It swung open almost immediately after another teenager from within yelled, "Coming!" That same young woman was also the one to greet her. "Hello," she said carefully, wondering about the identity of the teenager with revealing clothes.

"Hi; is Squall here?" the other teenager replied, eager to get to the point.

"No, he isn't. I'm sorry. But I _think_ I know where he went," Aerith told her, biting her bottom lip in thought. "I'm assuming you're one of his friends."

"Yes, I am," the teenager grinned, acknowledged. "I was just coming to see how my _friend_ was doing. I haven't seen him for a few days."

"He _has_ been acting strangely," Aerith agreed, nodding. "He'll wonder how you'll know this, but another one of his friends likes to spy on him...she's curious about where he goes during the day, er, night."

The teenager giggled, although whether it was about Aerith's awkwardness or something else was debatable.

"Follow this road, and go that way. Open the door, and he should be there," Aerith said.

"Thank you very much," the teenager smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You're welcome," Aerith replied, a smile also on her face, before shutting the door.

Unknown to her, the teenager's smile morphed into a twisted grin.

* * *

"The spy was right," she remarked as she walked toward her target, Squall Leonhart. However, it was unheard by his ears; he showed no sign that he knew she existed. "Hiya, Squall. Thanks for the great time the other night."

"What!" Squall exclaimed, suddenly up on his feet and stormy blue eyes showing confusion. "How did you...?"

"No, it doesn't matter _how_," the teenager stressed, "But rather, _why_ you dumped me into that dumpster!"

"You're...alive?" Squall asked. "I thought you were..."

"Don't worry about it," the teenager smiled, nearly genuine. "Let's go somewhere for some fun."

She was happily surprised when Squall wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close to the lion's body. He could smell the blood racing through her veins and struggled for control. He let his head hang low, closer to hers. It was not that he felt attracted to her, but rather, the joy he felt at this sudden turn of events. This was the first, and only, time in his life that he was foolish.

Unlike the previous days, those next few were the most blissful in his life. He spent time with the teenager; they held hands in town. Within him, he could feel growing the tiniest spark. Whether or not he would allow it to enlarge further, he was unsure. However, despite being in a paradise (or as close to it as one could get), a feeling from deep within his gut warned of trouble ahead. It was an instinct, something that Squall never ignored - until now. What a fool he was.

Fate is a funny thing, as it once again brought them to the secret spot, where Squall's fears had been destroyed. They sat together, still holding hands, but both lacking the passion to start a relationship.

"It's getting late," the teenager remarked, risking a quick glance at her watch. "I need to go home."

"Meet me here tomorrow?" Squall asked, standing up and offering her a hand. She accepted and was on her feet before she knew it.

"Sure!" she chirped. She fingered the hidden knife in her pocket as she asked, "Don't I get a hug?"

"Of course," Squall confirmed. "My mistake."

Their bodies came ever closer to each other, and Squall extended his arms to wrap them around her. Meanwhile, while his eyes are not focused on her, she slips the blade from her shorts. Her tiny arms encircle his waist, while his hook around her back. Squall, once again, rested his head on her small shoulder, a custom unique to them. Bliss. Absolute bliss. Happiness. No sadness, fear, or guilt.

While he was not expecting it, the knife plunged into his back and immediately drew blood. His eyes shifted from blue to steely gray; his pupils narrowed. With an animalistic hiss, he ripped the blade from his back and threw himself onto the teenager. She gasped as the cold metal pressed against her throat.

"_**You!**_" Squall snarled, fangs bared. "**Liar!"  
**

"You killed my sister!" the teenager sobbed, afraid of death itself. "I needed to get revenge!"

Although Squall went quiet, the anger was still there and building.

"Please! Don't kill me!" she begged.

A part of him was wondering why he showed her mercy then. He pushed himself off of her, into a sitting position. His world was suddenly entirely different from her's: he could not hear her dial numbers on her cell phone, pleading for help and giving directions to their location. He could not continue on like this, could he? He would be risking the life of every mortal he knew. He had already killed one, and he came close to killing another. How could he let this go on?

He fled from the cavern, eyes permanently steely gray. From there on, he would decide to grow out his hair and to train vigorously. He threw away his old name and adopted a new one: "Leon." He no longer pushed away his friends as roughly as he had, but he still insisted they kept their distance. After all, he was an _animal_, at least in his opinion.

He sulked into the hotel room and fell asleep on his bed. Before long, he drifted into the land of dreams. But, he would not find anything cute and snuggly there. It was a world all in itself, a world of nightmares.

Dark creatures, black as the night itself, swarmed around him, crimson eyes gleaming, hunger within their depths. "Kill!" they urged. "Drink all their blood!"

"No!" the dream-Leon protested. "I won't!"

He didn't even scream as the dream-monsters leaped at him, and he was lost within the darkness in only a matter of seconds.

As for the girl...her sister's body was never recovered. She was featured in a newspaper article, however. It was not the appearance she wanted - she was arrested for assault, as her fingerprints covered the knife, and the blood of Squall covered the blade. In truth, she was a murderer, for Squall was dead after all.

* * *

**Author's Note: I've wanted to do a vampire fic with Leon for a while now. And no, this isn't the end of the story. There's a chapter two on the way! In case the titles looked familiar (if you're a Disturbed fan, that is), they're the names of songs from their latest CD (at July 13, 2008), Indestructible. However, there's 12 songs and only 8 planned chapters, so four are to be left out.**

**Feel free to leave a review or flame, constructive criticism is welcome, and all that stuff.**


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